The book of Loony Tales 2: Morwen and Hûrin
by suyetsumu
Summary: The Book of Loony Tales Team does what should have been done long ago: We put Tolkiens characters on the analyst's couch. The less than happy marriage of Morwen and Hûrin is the second excerpt from the records of Dr. Hesheid, Middlearth's most popular shr


Morwen and Hûrin – Frag your job, you're never home!

Ulmo: Valar of the sea. He lives alone, and loves wandering, never staying in one place for a long time.

Nienna (she who weeps): Valar of grief

Morwen: Daughter of Baragund, queen of Dor-Lomín and Hûrins wife

Hûrin, son of Galdor: King of Dor-Lomín and Morwen's husband

Tûrin is their son.

Dr. Hesheid: Universal Middelearth shrink. Possibly elven. Might be one of the Maiar?

I admit that I felt somewhat apprehensive when Morwen Eledhwen first walked into my office. This was still the First Age, you see, and I had so far only dealt with Illuvatar's first children – the humans, with all their mysterious mortality, were uncharted territory for me.

In looks, Morwen, wife of Hûrin and queen of Dor-Lomín, could have passed for an Elven in her first youth, and, for a human, she was still exceptionally beautiful even in her middling years: Tall, dark-haired and regal. Like in most cases, her beauty did nothing to help her in a marriage which had gotten sour long before she finally decided to enlist my help.

She was then a haughty woman nearing her forties - not very old even for the second children, but she was already exhausted by two difficult pregnancies and by ruling a realm constantly threatened by war

"You are Doctor Hesheid, I presume?"

I nodded. "Mrs. Morwen Eledhwen?"

"Yes."

"How can I be of service?"

"It's his darned job" she flared immediately. "He's always gone to this war, or to that, to visit his Elven-king buddies, and I – I am sitting in Dor-Lomín, ruling this darned land for him, bringing up the children!"

Frankly speaking I was a bit surprised at her style since she was advertised to me as haughty, proud and ladylike beforehand. Then, on the other hand, there were the marks of little infants' dirty paws on her dress, and her bag was bulging with – and almost spilling – obviously unfinished parchment work.

Since she had revealed a formidable temper so far, I was not very surprised when she stated that the problems she was consulting me for had mostly to do with her marriage.

"Would you be so kind as to introduce me to the details you want us to go over together?

She blinked at me conspiratorially: "You know, I think he has an Ulmo-complex."

So she was going to be this kind of client. A reader of self-help books and hobby-analyst. This was going to be difficult.

"Eeerh--- Mrs. Morwen, could we please start in the beginning? What can you tell me about the first years of your marriage?"

Her face went rather stern and haughty. "I married Hûrin in 464. As you certainly know, he was then already king in Dor-Lomín after his father fell in the defence of the Ered Wethrin. I should have known, you know? He was always with his brother back then, laughing, playing the harp, singing, drinking with his pals. I thought that very attractive at first. I came as a refugee from Dorthonion to Dor-Lomín, and I have to admit that Hûrins light-heartedness was quite endearing, even if I thought it a bit inappropriate, considering the impending war…"

"Was there a war impending at that time?"

"There always is."

She obviously didn't believe in positive thinking.

"How would you describe your marriage then?" I tried to steer the conversation back to its goal.

"As I said, he is always away. Says it goes with the job, and spends most of his time in battles, or with those Elven-kings at Eithel Sirion. Then, when he comes home, the only things we can get out of him are songs and jokes and unpronounceable Elven gibberish…"

She caught her tongue when she looked at me, obviously embarrassed about having uttered the last few words, but she nevertheless continued, as if nothing had bothered her.

"He says he loves the children, but can't be bothered with bringing them up. They hardly know him. They adore him, because he lets them do whatever they want, but I think especially Tûrin, my eldest, is quite unsettled by his father. I mean, how can he build a proper identity with a role-model like that?"

More ready-made psychological theories here…

"How would you then describe your relationship to your husband right now?"

"I wish he could be serious for more than a minute!"

At that point, she was positively fuming.

"You know, I really think he does have an Ulmo complex! He doesn't want to be married! He hates being responsible! He just wants to go around wandering, here and there, and never settle down!" She was close to yelling at this point, and she glared at me.

"Dear Mrs. Morwen, I think we can't sort this out on our own, now, can we? I think we should ask your husband to accompany you to our next session…"

"Then you had better write him a letter right now and apply for some of his precious time. Maybe he'll come here eventually – in two or three year's time…"

With that, she stormed out of my office. Yet another client I wasn't going to see again, I thought. She was a very beautiful and quite formidable lady, but I wasn't certain whether her husband was to be envied.

Only moments after she had stormed out, another knock at my door caught me by surprise.

I opened the door, and there he stood: A good-looking, but rather short fellow, with unruly blonde hair and a twinkle in his eyes.

"She's gone, isn't she?"

"Do you mean Mrs. Morwen?"

He nodded, sighed, and threw himself into one of my armchairs with not so much as a "by your leave."

"I love her, you know?"

"I gather then, that you are Mr. Hûrin?"

He sighed again. "I am. "

"I'm certain that you are aware of the fact that Mrs. Morwen requested my assistance concerning your marriage, do you?"

He bored his knuckles into his eyes. He looked immensely tired. Otherwise he didn't seem to be a person endangered by Nienism at all.

"She is a wonderful woman, but her temper… She's always nagging. She always wants me to spend more time with the family, but if I do come home, she's always complaining. Says I should behave more kingly, show some interest in bringing up the children, but frankly speaking: you know… I have a war to run, and when I come home I feel quite useless – she's organized everything so well. They don't need me much at home, you know?"

"Maybe you should talk to her. Tell her how you feel, instead of hiding behind songs and laughter."

"Talk to Morwen?" He eyed me as if I was the one in need of therapy in the room. "Dr. Hesheid, I love her but talk to her? About our marriage above all? By the Valar, I'd rather face seventy Orcs and Morgoth on top of them!"

He jumped from the armchair then, and left my office in a hurry. Outside, I heard him call: "Sweetheart! Are you still there? We could go back to Dor-Lomín together, yes? Sweetheart?"

I couldn't shake off the feeling that I had let the man walk out to meet his doom.

Frankly speaking, I took up any's challenge first when there was no one else who considered writing a loony tale at all. I kept the challenge, because as it seems, no one but any and me is familiar enough with the Silmarillion to write it. Yet this challenge is really a hard one: The story of Morwen, Hûrin and their children is the most tragic story Tolkien has ever written, and while it is undeniable that Morwen is several short of a dozen, and her marriage with Hûrin is not a success even in happy times, she still gets a far, far worse fate than she deserves, I found it hard to write this – you have to tell me, whether it works!

"The turn with Hurin appearing was quite unexpected. - I admit I uttered the challenge with the idea in mind that Hurin was already chained to Morgoth's rock, which would have made Morwen's complaint a bit absurd, but this way it has more depth, I believe." any told me after betaing. Well, that's exactly my point! Everything after Lalalith's death and the Nirnaeth Arnoediad is just to sad to make fun of, in my humble opinion… Although I just had to add that nasty little pun about 70 Orcs and Morgoth :-)


End file.
